


Hiding My Priorities

by NealsNeen



Category: White Collar, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: 2x09, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Episode: s02e09 Point Blank, Friendship, Hiding an injury, Hurt, Injury, Revenge, Whump, concerned Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NealsNeen/pseuds/NealsNeen
Summary: "Neal drags his eyes open, turns his head an inch to look at Peter and says: „I don't feel so good.“Peter's eyes grow wide with concern. The lunge through the window...Even though he likes to think of Neal as invincible, he certainly was not."I am now on Instagram: whitecollarfiction - follow me :)
Relationships: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Comments: 13
Kudos: 128
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

This scene has been exploited so much within this fandom. Am I going to do it again? YES! <3

It's from 2x09 „Point Blank“. Sorry, it got a bit long and I'm not great at tenses. :S

This fills my „Bad Things Happen Bingo“-prompt: „Hiding an injury“. Still fairly new to writing

fan-fiction. Hope, you'll enjoy.

Chapter 1 is the build-up, Chapter 2 is as much whump as I was able to squeeze into it. :)

It was just a second, a blip in time and Neal spots Fowler behind a set of windows in the eastern wing on the upper floor of the Russian museum. He sprints up the stairs, taking two at a time, reaching the top floor. Just before he can round the corner of the corridor that leads to the room Fowler locked himself up in, he skids to a halt and hears Peter's voice, demanding entrance.

Neal recoils and runs in the opposite direction of the gallery. He spots a balcony, adjacent to the room Fowler is hiding in. _Perfect._

Neal sees a banner, which had been hung up over the courtyard and draped over the balcony. Immediately, a plan is forming in his head.

_Fowler bought the explosives to blew up the plane._

Diana is in the courtyard looking up at him and yelling his name. But Neal steps back inside, holstering the gun he stole from the antiquities shop. He looks around wildly and spots a glass cabinet with a dagger on display, which glints at him as if to say it's just the right tool for his endeavors.

He grabs it quickly and steps onto the balcony again, cutting the rope that was binding the banner. He steps onto the banister, holds onto the banner and swings forward with all the force that he can muster, draping his legs around the fabric, gaining speed as well as momentum.

The impact is a loud clatter of glass and wood as it breaks and splinters and crashes to the ground together with Neal, who recovers quickly. He rolls and jumps up, gun in hand, firing a well aimed shot at the vase behind Fowler. _A warning shot. This is going to be your end, Fowler._

Con man that Neal was, all of this happened in one fluid motion.

Only his appearance had suffered marginally. His hair was tousled, the brown curls falling over his brows, his suite however, appeared to be surprisingly and impeccably in place.

Neal steps closer to Fowler. „Tell me why you killed Kate?“ His large blue eyes staring into Fowler's, gun aimed at his opponents head.

„What was in it for you?“, he asks.

„... it cost me everything. My career is over.“ the man in front of him replies.

Peter tries to prize the door open with a fire extinguisher.

He had heard the gunshot. _Oh God, Neal. Please, don't do this to me!_

With one last shove, Peter pushes the door open. Neal has a gun raised on Fowler and without looking in his direction, he says:„Stay out of this, Peter.“

The rage in Neal's eyes frightens him. But there is no other way than to raise his own gun on Neal. „If you pull this trigger, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, Neal. You're not a killer.“

Peter can see small tremors running through Neal's lean frame, his curls shivering, a thin line of sweat forming on his forehead. _This can't be happening! Cowboy up, Neal!_

„Look at me, Neal! This isn't who you are!“

Neal hesitates … and slowly lowers his gun, turns around to face Peter and Diana and hands over his weapon. A sigh of relief escapes Peter's lips.

Diana puts her handcuffs on Neal and leads him out of the room and out of this damn museum.

The car is parked just around the corner in an alley and as she shoves Neal forward and around the building, she bows her head in sympathy as well as concern and annoyance. _She knew what it was like to loose someone close (Charlie...damn it!); she knew the rage...she'd felt it! But never allowed herself to give in._

She places Neal in the backseat, closes the door and turns around to check where Peter was. He is walking towards them and jumps into the passengers seat as Diana climbs behind the wheel. „Is Jones taking Fowler in?“, she asks. Peter just nods.

Neither of them speak during the ride to the office. Traffic is rather slow and Peter is still fuming.

Neal's actions today were so utterly stupid and reckless.

_Hadn't I conveyed that Neal could confide in me... trust me...after all we've been through?_

With every red traffic-light they hit, Peter is deflating more and more.

As he slowly returns to the here and now, he steals a glance at Diana, who is concentrating on the traffic ahead. Suddenly, he becomes aware of labored breaths... coming from the backseat.

With painful regret Peter realizes he hadn't asked if Neal was okay. He slowly turns around in his seat to look at his CI. What he sees, shocks him.

Neal is slumped sideways against the window, looking incredibly pale. His eyes are closed, one hand pressed onto the seat next to him, the other one lying limply in his lap, palm up. His brows drawn together as if in pain, his lips pressed together.

„Neal?“, Peter asks cautiously.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal drags his eyes open, turns his head an inch to look at Peter and says: „I don't feel so good.“

Peter's eyes grow wide with concern. _The lunge through the window..._

Even though he likes to think of Neal as invincible, he certainly was not.

„What is it buddy? Talk to me.“

„No, Peter, it's okay. Deserve it, too. I jus' wanna go home.“ Neal was slurring his words, his gaze going out the window in a distant haze.

The car stops abruptly, the traffic coming to a general halt in the busy streets of New York. „Damn it. At this pace, we'll never reach the office. Is Neal okay, what's going on?“ Diana asks, turning around towards the backseat.

„Neal! Of all days, can't you just be honest? Going rogue like you did today is one thing, but pretending to be okay afterwards is another. You're my responsibility. I need to know!“ Peter is fuming again. He didn't mean for his words to come out this harshly and he can see Neal sag a bit more in his seat with a defeated and sad look on his face, replacing the lines of pain between his brows. But he remains silent.

Peter grumbles angrily and jumps out of the car onto the sidewalk and yanks the backdoor open. Neal braces himself before he can topple to the concrete. Peter grabs him by the arm and pulls him to the sidewalk and onto his feet.

Neal sways dangerously for a second. He straightens as best as he can and looks Peter directly in the eye defiantly as they stand face to face.

Peter's jaw is set in a grim expression, suppressing his anger and concern, his hands stemmed onto his hips. _Typical Peter stance._ Neal's eyes are cast downwards, his hair still falling in thick waves over his forehead, slightly matted to it. He looks incredibly guilt-ridden, yet innocent.

Peter sighs. If Neal wasn't going to tell him what's wrong... He reaches out and lifts the hem of Neal's suit jacket to the side.

„Damn it, Neal!“, escapes his lips. There is a large bloodstain on Neal's right side, covering his shirt from mid-section down to his pants.

Neal shoves his hand away. „'M goin' home.“ he states firmly and starts staggering past Peter.

Before he can, Peter grabs his shoulder and he lets out strangled whimper, his eyes going wide, looking at Peter with a helpless expression, before they roll back in his head and he starts to fall.

Peter inhales sharply and quickly reaches out to wrap his arms around his CI. Neal has gone completely limp and Peter lets him slide to the floor slowly and cautiously, one arm draped around his back, the other reaching up to support his neck, he lays Neal down. His head rolls to the side, lips slightly parted, his arms lying limply by his side. Peter is hovering over him, unsure what to do. He shakes the young man gently to rouse him. „P'tr.“ It's merely a whisper. „'M not a bad person.“ He states pitifully without opening his eyes.

„I know, you're not, Neal.“ Peter puts a hand on top of Neal's head reassuringly and gazes downward to inspect where all the blood is coming from. „God damn it. You've lost a lot of blood.“

It appears that a large shard of glass has embedded itself between Neal's ribs.

„Boss?“ Diana has rounded the car and is standing right behind Peter and a spread-eagle-Neal.

„Diana, we have to get him to an ER NOW.“

„Shall we get him back in the car or call an ambulance?“

„Neither. Not with this traffic-jam. There is a clinic halfway down the block. I'll have to carry him there.“

Passers-by were giving them odd looks. „What are you looking at? Move on!“ Diana yells. „Alright, Peter. I can't leave the car here, I'll be right behind you though and meet you at the ER.“

Peter nods and draws his attention back to Neal, who hasn't moved at all.

Already crouched down by his side, Peter shoves one arm under Neal's shoulders and starts leveling him upwards into a sitting position. Neal's head helplessly lolling on his shoulders and then falling forward. Peter winces at the small sound when Neal's chin hits his chest.

„Neal, are you with me? I'm going to lean you against me and then I'm going to pick you up.“

„Mmmm“ Is the only response he receives.

Neal's upper body is now slumped against Peter's chest and his head resting on his right shoulder, one arm lying across his lap, the other one dangling limply. Peter slides his left arm underneath Neal's knees and pushes upward. The kid is a lot heavier than he expected. Bony and lean, yes- but also muscular.

He can feel that Neal is trying his best to crawl his way back to consciousness, his body weakly tensing to stay upright against Peter's.

Peter starts walking in fast, long strides, breathing heavily after a couple of feet under Neal's weight. He can already spot the hospital sign coming closer with every step.

Neal is sagging more and more against Peter, not able to hold on any longer. The blood loss and pain pulling him under, muscles relaxing. As Peter rounds the corner of the ER's entrance, all tension leaves Neal and his upper body starts drooping and sliding ever so slowly, until his head is tilted backwards completely, mouth agape, _out cold._

„I need help!“ Peter yells, as he walks through the sliding doors into the reception area of the ER.

A nurse down the hall comes hurrying, pushing a gurney towards them. With a sigh of relief, Peter lays Neal down. The gurney is too small for Neal's build and his arms are dangling over the edge. The nurse picks up his arms and lays them across his chest. Peter puts a hand to his mouth. _Shit. The kid looks like a rag-doll._

He watches as they wheel him away, then turns towards the waiting area and sinks down into a plastic chair, letting out a shaky breath. _He'll be alright. Has to be._

A couple of hours and phone calls to June, Hughes and El later, he and Diana are sipping stale coffee in the waiting area. Both of them looking drawn and tired.

„Family of Mr Caffrey?“

Peter jumps up and the doctor approaches him.

„Mr Caffrey has suffered a puncture wound to the chest. The shard we have removed didn't hit anything vital although the blood loss was quite severe. Transfusion was not necessary, we have merely closed the wound and Mr Caffrey should make a full recovery. You can go see him, if you like. He is in recovery-cubicle 8 and should wake from the anesthetics soon.“

„I'm going to make some more calls, you go ahead and check on him“, Diana states.

Peter approaches the curtained cubicle and peers inside. Neal is lying on his back, slightly elevated and looking all but 12 years old with his tousled hair and slack face.

_Cut him some slack, reckless as he was today, he's been through a lot._

Peter approaches the bed and lays a hand on Neal's arm, stroking it with his thumb.

The touch must've roused Neal as he starts stirring, his head rolling towards Peter, he lets out a deep sigh and opens his eyes a fraction.

„P'tr?“

Neal looks so forlorn that it breaks Peter's heart, his conscience screaming at him that he should not have been so hard on him today. Neal has a habit of omitting the truth and hiding his feelings. Especially when it comes to Kate's death. Peter hadn't expected Neal to open up to him about drawing outside the lines to get his revenge. But he would've liked it. A lot. It would've been something that friends do. Because truth be told, that's what Neal was to him. An asset, a tool, a CI, a felon, a forger... but first and foremost: His friend.

„I'm sorry, Neal. You are my friend. You know that, right? I'm more often concerned about your well-being physically and mentally than I am about you being up to mischief.“ Peter smiles broadly and Neal returns the gesture in a drowsy, drugged way.


End file.
